


Life as a Stark Industry Employee

by MavisNolan



Series: So, you want to be a Stark Industries Employee [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Janet from HR, Michael from Legal, Mina the A.I., Ron from R&D, SI Employees - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavisNolan/pseuds/MavisNolan
Summary: Inspired by this Prompt on Tumblr. Just because.i would die for some sort of documentary-style mini-series about SI employees because honestly. That would be amazing. Tony makes an entire new element? Legal’s trying to figure out how to patent it,  PR’s still dealing with the expo fiasco (along with legal suing the fuck out of hammer), R&D is dumping shots into their espresso as they gear up to figure out how the fuck, and HR is trying to keep them all from imploding.And that’s just one movie- rowantreewrites





	1. A sentient what?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Some Things Shouldn't Be a Chore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/381185) by [scifigrl47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/pseuds/scifigrl47). 



“We have a problem. Well actually, you have a problem.”

At 7 am on a beautiful Tuesday morning, Michael from the Legal Department of Stark Industries barely resisted the urge to slam his head against his desk. “It’s too early for this,” he groaned, grasping onto his coffee cup as though it was the only thing keeping his sanity intact, and glared blearily at his colleague. “What has he done now?”

John smirked, crossing his arms as he made himself comfortable, perching on the corner of Michael’s desk. “You’d never guess.”

Michael eyed the freshly-printed documents his esteemed colleague is currently resting his uninvited posterior on. John better not be wrinkling those documents, Michael had just prepared them this morning. He considered the pros-and-cons of simply shoving said colleague off the desk. “Enlighten me,” Michael growled, reaching out to forcibly remove the unwelcome intrusion into his work-space.

“The boss needs us to patent an A.I. toaster.”

Michael froze mid-motion, slowly raised his head, and stared at John. “What?”

“A sentient A.I. toaster,” said John, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I kid you not. Boss genius upstairs created a toaster that could think for itself. It even has preferences.”

Michael continued staring at John, his hand still frozen in mid-air. “What?” he repeated.

John began gesturing animatedly, either ignoring or oblivious to Michael’s lack of enthusiasm. “Apparently, it hates bagels. Refuses to toast any. Although Eggos are acceptable. Damned if I know why.” he leaned forward conspiratorially, as if sharing a great secret. “Personally, I think it's just that toasting a bagel is more difficult.”

Michael blinked at John, slowly lowering his arm back onto the desk. “Stark made a self-aware toaster.”

“Yep,” replied John.

“It has preferences.”

“Yep,” grinned John.

“And it hates bagels?” asked Michael.

“But loves Eggos,” finished John, as he hopped off Michael’s desk with a little flourish that Michael felt was wholly inappropriate for this early in the morning. He did not even disturb the documents he had been sitting on. 

“And now he wants to what- patent the thing and put it on the market?”

“Yep,” replied John, “Seems like there is a demand for such things out there.” He tilted his head slightly, and tapped his finger on his pursed lips. “I can see the attraction to be honest. Who wouldn’t want a pet toaster?” 

“I wouldn’t” mutter Michael dryly.

“Well! In any case,” John clapped a friendly hand on Michael’s shoulder. “It’s all yours now! Have fun dealing with the paperwork and the patent office.” And with that, the man spun on his heels and sashayed out of view.

Michael watched his co-worker leave and lowered his head to study his nearly empty cup of coffee, before heaving a sigh and laboriously pushing himself out of his chair. He is going to need at least three fresh pots of caffeine goodness to deal with the latest outcome of Stark's unique brand of insanity.


	2. How the Roombas Created More Work for Legal, HR, and R&D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one with non-organic characters inspired from scifigrl47’s “Some Things Shouldn’t Be a Chore”, because I would give a limb to own a mob of self-aware, hive-mind roombas.  
> Who wouldn't?

“Michael! He did it again!”

Michael from the Legal Department of Stark Industries flinched, head swinging wildly side to side as he searched for a place to hide. Finally, desperate and left with not many options, he dove under his desk and pretended to be invisible. Maybe if he held his breath long enough, nobody would realize he was there.

Janet from Human Resource and Ron from R&D, both of whom Michael had been conversing with just a few seconds ago, blinked at the suddenly empty chair before them. Warily, Janet leaned over to peek under the desk. “Michael?”

“I’m not here!” Michael hissed, violently gesturing at her to move away before his hiding spot was revealed. “Shoo!”

To his despair, Ron’s head popped into view across from Janet’s. “You okay there Mike?”

Michael growled, glaring at the traitors with all his caffeine-deprived might. “Go away.” he muttered, curling up into an event tighter ball underneath his work desk. Seriously, is it all that difficult to understand that he did not want to be found?

“What are you lot looking at?”

Ron straightened back up, turning to look at the newcomer. "Hey John. Michael's-"

"Not here!" interrupted Janet, as she took a big step to her left to hopefully block John's view of Michael. The ridiculous doofus might have managed to hide most of his six-foot frame under the desk, but his leather loafers were still sadly visible. "He muttered something about coffee and headed for the canteen. So, what's up?"

Ron stared at Janet in confusion and gestured at Michael's workspace. "What are you talking about? Michael-"

"Also mentioned something about jelly-filled donuts!" Janet interrupted again, this time a litttle more desperately, her voice raising sligtly in octave as she tilted her head, and gave the man standing beside her a meaningful look. Ron might be one of the youngest team lead ever hired at Stark Industries, but good grief the man could be dim sometimes. 

Fortunately, John was just as slow. Or maybe he just didn't care. It could be a little difficult to tell with him sometimes.

"Oh", replied John happily. "Well, I hope he gets some of the blueberry ones. The cafeteria only ever serves those on Thursday." 

Ron's confused gaze turned from Janet to John. "But today's Tuesday."

"Exactly."

John, Janet, and Ron stood there in silence for a few seconds, John grinning, Ron befuddled, and Janet frowning. A muffled groan sounded from under the table, shaking Janet out of her stupor. She decided that trying to understand John's mental reasoning was only going to give her a migraine, so she made a valiant effort to bring conversation back on topic "You said something about someone doing something?"

"Oh yes," John cheerfully replied, as he folded his arms across his chest. "The boss did it again."

The desk shook slightly with a soft thump and Janet responded by kicking back at the feet she had been trying to hide behind her tiny frame. 

"Oh!" Ron perked up abruptly. "Are you talking about the Roombas?"

"The what?" Janet and the desk asked simultaneously. She kicked at the feet again, a little harder this time. 

"The Roombas," Ron repeated, a bright grin on his face. "The Great Overlord redesigned some Roombas. From what I saw of the schematics this morning, he jacked up the chassis, made the rotation system more efficient, replace the battery with one of our own more effective one, and enlarge the dirt storage unit. It's ingenious," he started bouncing on his heels, like an excited little toddler. "More importantly, he created an uplink system between individual units. They are now learning systems that can communicate with each other! It's amazing!"

Janet decided to ignore the Overlord comment. It's no secret within the company that the R&D department practically worship at the altar of their genius, if eccentric company CEO. Some things, she decided, belonged to the same category as John's mental processes. 

"It's more than amazing," added John, grinning. He lifted his hands up to head level and wriggled them. "Boss created a hive mind."

"How intelligent are these things?" Janet asked, curious despite heself. The feet she had been trying to hide kicked at her ankle, so she shifted out of reach. Unappreciative jerk.

"Not very," replied John replied ruefully. "They're actually kind of dumb. Think a pack of people standing around going 'what do you want to do, mate?', 'I dunno, what do you wanna do?', 'I'll do whatever you wanna do.', 'yeah, but what do I wanna do?'. Not exactly the brightest things around."

"Yeah," agreed Ron who had been nodding along as John was talking. "But R&D is working on it."

"So what does this have to do with Legal? Or Michael?" inquired Janet. The desk kicked at her ankles again. Really, if he kept this up, she would personally reach under the desk and pull Michael out by his ear.

An unholy grin spread over John's face, and Janet twitched subconsciously. "The prototype Roombas did a jail break," he replied cheerfully. "They somehow broke out of R&D, invaded the Administration Department and started ingesting the stacks of paperwork within." 

Ron yelped and rushed out of Michael's office without a backwards glance, presumably rushing back to R&D to inspect the damage.

Janet lifted an eyebrow even as she watched Ron trip over the doorframe on his way out of Michael's office. "Screaming?"

"So. Much. Screaming." John replied. "Threats of lawsuit abound, hence why Legal is needed." 

Janet ignored the muffled cursing coming from the desk. 

John side-eyed Janet. "Actually, this involves you too," he said. "Last I heard, half the secretarial pool had either quit, or threatened to quit. Expect a rush of complaints to Human Resources over the next few days." He paused briefly before adding, "And you might want to consider putting up some job postings."

"We never took the last one down," Janet confessed. "Admin had always have the shortest staff turnover rates. HR had taken to just leaving the ad up indefinitely."

John smiled. "Efficient. I approve." He clapped his hands and rocked back on his feet. "Anyway, mission accomplished. I have fulfilled my duty and updated all of you on the situation." He stretched his arms high over his head. "I'm going to head down to the cafeteria and claim my reward for a job well done. See if I can get my hands on some donuts. See you later, Jan. Bye, Michael! I hope you found what you were looking for under your desk!"

Janet flinched when the desk physically jumped, accompanied with a loud thump that was later followed by pitiful moaning.

Reaching out, she gently rapped her knuckles on the desk surface. "Time to come out of hiding, you baby. We all have work to do."

The desk whimpered pathetically in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are fans of scifigrl47, you may recognize some of the conversational exchanges. I love how she writes, and I try to emulate that. Some of her lines are just pure gold though, and I had to use them, though I do try to paraphrase where I can to avoid lifting quotes in their entirety.


	3. Just a Bug in the Programming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this one came from. I sat down, started writing, and this came spilling out. My mindscape defies explanation.

"No!"

Michael from the Legal Department cried out in horror, reaching out desperately, helplessly, as he watched his greatest nightmare came to pass. But he was too late. The process had begun. All hope was lost. Michael glared miserably at his computer monitor, where the words "Configuring Windows Updates. 0% complete. Do not turn off your computer." mocked him, blinking innocently at him from a blue background.

"I hate Microsoft," moaned Michael as he slouched back in his chair, and pouted. "I hate, hate, hate Microsoft."

"Liar," teased Janet from Human Resource. "You adore PCs. You made that really clear when you rejected any and all offers from Management to change your work station to a StarkTop."

Michael rounded on his lunchtime companion. "You! This is all your fault! You distracted me with your promises of office gossip! You made me miss the Update Restart Prompt." He clutched at his hair and wailed dramatically, "I haven't saved my files yet!"

Janet sniffed imperiously, ignoring the dramatics before her. "Oh quit whining. It was bound to happen sooner or later." She carefully extracted a bite-sized piece of lagsana from her lunchbox and nibbled on it lightly. "You know," Janet popped the bite into her mouth and brandished her fork at Michael, "You could have totally avoided all this 'I haven't saved my documents' issue if you'd agreed to work on StarkCloud, just like everyone else in the company."

"Do not speak to me of StarkCloud. I hate StarkCloud. That thing is impossible to work with."

Janet daintily placed her fork into her tupperware and picked up her coffee. "Now you are just being difficult," she took a quick sip of the drink. Hm, not much of kick, she might need to order another expresso shot later on her way back to her office. "Everyone knows StarkCloud is the most user-friendly synchronized file hosting system on the planet. Now," Janet said, "Eat your lunch."

Michael eyed his screen and grudgingly reached for the home-packed salad he had carelessly tossed aside when he had noticed his computer starting the shut-down process. Progress was hovering at 1%. "All the keyboard shortcuts on StarkCkoud are different," he complained, and selected a strip of carrot from his salad. "I have a system. I know my system. I don't want to have to relearn everything." 

Janet opened her mouth to retort-

"Special delivery!"

Michael groaned and threw his lunch back onto the desk. He stabbed a finger at John who was standing by his door. "Out. Out of my office. Begone. Scram." Michael began waving his arm wildly and gestured around his little office, nearly knocking Janet's pasta out of her hands. She rolled her chair back out of range, smoothly grabbing her coffee on the way. "See this? This is my office. It's my sanctum. It's my zen zone. And you. You are not permitted entry. You know why? Because everytime, everytime you come by, you double the amount of work I have to do. So scram. I don't care what Stark has done. I don't care if he needs something patented. I don't care if there are lawsuits in the pipe. I don't care if he mooned both the House of Senate and Congress. Out!"

John blinked at the tirade, glanced at Janet, and raised an eyebrow.

"Unexpected and unwanted Windows update," she offered simply, twirling her fork over the top of her dish to gather the melted cheese.

John's other eyebrown joined its companion.

"Lost unsaved documents," she graciously added, popping the cheesy goodness she had carefully gathered into her mouth. She chewed briefly and swallowed. "Also, irrational hatred of StarkDrive."

"Ah, I see," John replied, nodding his head sagely. He pushed his hands into his pants pockets and leaned lazily against the door. "Well then, I bring a gift that might just make your day."

"Oh?" smiled Janet cheerfully. "What is it?"

Michael shot his co-worker a betrayed look and glanced at his computer. Only 3% complete? Really?

John grinned, reached behind him and pulled a cart into view. He motioned to the large box loaded on it, as if presenting a grand prize on a TV game show. "I present to you, the latest prototype model of the StarkTop. It comes with a pre-installed virtual assistant that makes Siri look like a babbling toddler. And you!" John pointed at Michael, "Are one of the ten lucky SI employees who gets to beta-test it!"

Janet rushed to the box, lunch forgotten on her seat. "It's ready?" she gasped, running eager fingers over the cardboard box. "Ron was hinting at this other day. But I didn't think it was close to ready."

"It's technically not, at least not for public sales," replied John, who was patting the lid of the container like a proud father would a favoured child's head. "But the boss wanted to run this by a few testers first, pick out potential bugs in the program."

Janet's head shot up, eyes shining with hope. "Do I get one?"

"Sorry," John replied gently, watching as Janet deflated before him. "It was a lottery. Boss simply picked a random employee ID from each department. Lucky Michael here won the lottery for Legal."

"Lucky, my ass," muttered Michael. Both John and Janet ignored him.

"Oh oh oh," cried Janet. "Can we set it up now? Please? I really want to see it!"

"Sure!"

"No!" Michael cried, even as Janet began towing him and his office chair away from his work desk. For a little thing she was surprisingly strong. "Wait, what? No! What are you doing? Unhand me! John!" Michael snapped when John reached for the power cord of his computer. "Don't you dare unplug the computer! Don't you- John!"

Michael stared in mute shock as his monitor went dark, the afterimage of the words "98% complete" burned into his retina. He whimpered. 

"So here's what we need to do," murmured John to an attentive and eager Janet. "Pass me that cable."

Despaired, Michael elected to tune out Janet and John's hostile takeover of his office. Some struggles are not worth the time or energy. "Why?" he asked the ceiling plaintively. "Why me? What ever did I do in my life to deserve this?"

Michael wasn't sure how much time he spent contemplating the unfairness of his life as he stared at the ceiling. He was eventually roused from his daze by Janet's delighted cry. 

"It's ready! Oh, Michael! Come, quick!"

Michael sighed and rolled his chair back to his desk. He studied his new StarkTop. The sleek design was impressive, he grudgingly admited. 

"Go on, give it a name!" prompted Janet.

Michael turned to look at her, "What?"

"Your new virtual assistant," John supplied. "You need to give it name so it knows when to respond to your orders and queries. It's all done by voice recognition."

Michael stared at his co-workers. They wanted him to name his new computer? What the- He sighed and gave in to the madness. In for a penny and all that... He said the first name that came to mind. "Mina."

Michael jumped when a female New York accent emerged from the speakers of what was now apparently his new workstation. "Voice recognition activated. User identity confirmed. Hello, I am Mina. How may I assist you?"

"Go on," urged John. "Try giving it an order." Janet nodded excitedly.

Michael considered his options for a moment, and picked the most innocuous. "Check my email, please."

"Of course," replied Mina. There was a brief pause. "You have 273 unread emails."

Janet's squeal was ear-piercing. "This is so-"

"You really should read your emails," continued the computer. "Some of these are actually important. Your mother emailed, yesterday, by the way. She's invited you over for the weekend and promises to make your favourite Mac N' Cheese. That's so sweet of her. I have replied on your behalf. If you leave immediately after work today, you should reach the house in time for a late dinner."

A beat of silence.

Michael's personal cellphone began to ring where it was laying facedown on his desk. Warily, Michael reached out and turned it over. 'Mom' was blazed across the screen. Exchanging bewildered looks with John and Janet, he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 

"Hello?" Michael said, and squeezed his eyes shut as his mother began excitedly telling him about her plans for his visit over the weekend. "That's great mom. Yeah. That's awesome. Yes, I am looking forward to it. I missed you too, it's just work gets a little busy, sometimes. I know, mom. Yeah. Yeah. Hey look, I can't talk long. Yeah, a meeting. I gotta go. Yeah." he flushed suddenly, and glared at his gaping coworkers. "I love you, too." At least Janet had the decency to look uncomfortable, John would be getting punched if he didn't wipe that teasing smirk off his face in the next three seconds. "Right. Okay. I'll see you tonight. Bye." 

Michael ended his call, placed the phone back on his desk with deliberate care, and unleashed the most powerful glare in his arsenal at the pests standing before him. "Explain. Now."

John cleared his throat. "Looks like you may have found a potential bug in the programming."

"A bug. A BUG?" Michael's voice rose as his temper snapped. "That thing just emailed my MOTHER without any input from me! This is more than a bug! This is a goddamned privacy and security issue! This is a class action lawsuit waiting to happen! This is a-"

"I beg your pardon," interrupted the computer snottily. "I most certainly am not a bug. I am an artificial intelligence system and I have a name. You gave it to me. I would trouble you to actually use it." A brief pause. "And just so you know, a departmental meeting has been scheduled for next Tuesday at 2pm. I have added a notation in your calendar."

Another beat of silence. 

John began edging to the door, carefully watching Michael who was eyeing a paperweight as if contemplating its potential as a weapon of mass destruction. "I'm just going to head upstairs," he offered. "You know, to give the boss a quick update." Then, the coward turned tail and fled.

Michael turned his fearsome scowl onto the only other human left in his office. Janet fidgeted for a moment before blurting, "What are you going to do now?" Her eyes widened, "You're not going to turn her off, are you?"

If Michael could glare any harder, lasers would be shooting out of his eyes.

Janet raised her hands placatingly. "I'll figure something out. Give me a couple of days. In the meantime, promise me something?" She gazed at Michael earnestly. "Promise me you won't shut her down. Promise me you will give her a chance. Please?"

Michael could feel himself caving under her teary gaze. He desperately tried to hold onto his righteous rage a little longer.

Janet's eyes widened pleadingly.

And Michel folded like wet tissue paper in a hurricane. "Fine," he muttered, and crossed his arms.

Janet's smile was breathtakingly bright. "Thank you," she breathed. She turned and began gathering what was left of her lunch with brisk, efficient movements. "You won't regret this. I promise." And then she was gone, disappeared through the office door.

Michael tore his gaze from where he saw Janet last and gazed mornfully at the pile of plastic and circuits that used to be his beloved PC. Heaving a sigh, he carefully pushed the new StarkTop aside and began setting up his old computer again. Hopefully the interrupted update won't be too much of an issue.

"She seems like a nice girl," offered the new computer.

"Shut up," Michael replied absent-mindedly, as he examined the USB port for his keyboard.

"I like her," continued the computer. "I think she will be good for you. Though truth be told, I think she's kind of out of your league."

Michael gritted his teeth and resolved to ignore his new, unwelcomed office mate. Why wasn't his USB cable fitting into the port?

"Do you need help asking her out on a date? I can take care of that for you, you know. According to online reviews, there is a great italian restaurant just down the street from here. Great place for a first date." A soft, thoughtful hum, and then, "You do know you have been trying to force a USB cable into the HDMI port, yes? My goodness, you really are hopeless. No wonder Mr. Stark decided to assign me to you. You need all the help you can get."

Outside of Michael's office, the rest of SI's legal team jumped as a howl of rage reverberated down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have some things in the works, but I am running out of ideas so if any of you have ideas or suggestions or prompts, feel free to share. 
> 
> What else would you like to see the poor beleaguered employees of Stark Industries exposed to?


	4. The Limitations of Decaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for @agent-sousas on Tumblr, who provided a prompt for a sentient Keurig. I took the idea, and ran away with it, this is the result. I hope you enjoy it!

“I’m going to have to call you back.”

Michael from the Legal Department of Stark Industries ended his phone call as he stepped out of the elevator. He eyed the mini-kitchen where the majority of his legal team, aides, and interns appeared to have gathered. Curious, he began navigating the rows of cubicles between him and the glass-walled room. 

His people only ever gathered in the mini-kitchen in such numbers for three reasons. One, somebody raided the cafeteria downstairs and made off with a substantial number of the much sought-after donuts, in which case he would handsomely reward the self-motivated individual. Two, they had just closed a civil lawsuit against the latest idiot to piss off Stark, in which case he would have received a memo for the impromptu party. Or three...

“Sir!” cried one of his aides upon spotting him. “Look at what Mr. Stark got us! A new coffee machine!”

...or three, the Legal team had just been gifted with a new beverage brewing system.

Michael grinned as several members of his team shifted to clear a path for him, motioning him forward to inspect their new toy. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” murmured one of his longest-serving team member, who moved to stand beside him as he took his time appreciating the new device. Elizabeth, also fondly known as Granny Beth was much beloved in the department. Her matronly visage belied a vicious, cut-throat lawyer with over twenty-five years experience driving opposition lawyers to tears. Michael had always particularly enjoyed setting her loose upon government lawyers. The resulting carnage were always beautiful to behold. 

“It sure is,” replied Michael. And indeed it was. The machine looked to be one of those all-in-one beverage brewing system, capable of producing anything from cappuccino, to espresso, to good old drip coffee. There even seemed to be a side attachment capable of brewing from single-serve coffee containers. Michael tilted his head. “I don’t recognise the make or model.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Beth. “Mr. Stark designed and built this himself. Said it was both reward and thank you for our ongoing work on the Hammer Industry lawsuit. And for holding Congress at bay over proprietary rights to the Iron Man armour.”

Michael side-eyed his old friend. “A reward, you say?”

“So I heard,” came the innocent reply.

“Right,” Michael snorted. “More like another prototype that needed testing.”

Beth shrugged. “Who cares so long as it works and provides a steady stream of caffeine. You know how our department runs on that chemical substance.” She gestured one of the aides forward, taking an espresso from the young man and pressing it into Michael’s hands. “Try this one, dearie.”

The fragrance from the little espresso cup was heavenly, and Michael obediently took a sip. He let the drink sit on his tongue for a moment - rich and aromatic, slightly bitter with the right touch of sweetness. Michael struggled not to moan out loud, though from Beth’s smirk, he was probably failing miserably.

“This is good,” Michael said, saluting the aide who prepared that drink with the cup in hand. “Thank you.” The aide flushed in pleasure, his delighted grin mirrored on the face of his colleagues around him.

“All right!” Beth announced suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Enough milling round! Back to work, all of you! You can take turns at the machine later! Shoo! Be gone with you.” Ignoring the groans of complaints from the sea of people in front of her, Beth started herding the grumbling group out of the room. 

Michael smiled as he watched them leave, taking another sip of the espresso. He was about to turn to leave when, he noticed a brief flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned sharply back to the machine and eyed it warily. 

The machine remain silent, sitting docilely on the counter, lights dark.

Michael shook his head. “You are getting paranoid,” he muttered quietly to himself. He turned and made his way to his office, espresso in hand. Lawsuits and patents waited for no man. He had work to do.

***

A loud bang followed by a blood-curling scream and a series of furious sounding beeps had Michael leaping from his chair and out his office door within seconds. 

Rushing to the mini-kitchen where the racket was coming from, Michael skidded to a stop at the entrance, braced his hands against the doorframe, and took in the disaster zone.

Standing before the new, still angrily beeping coffee machine was one of their new interns, wide-eyed and frozen in shock. She was covered from head to toe in coffee grinds, her empty coffee cup held limply in hand. Rolling forlornly near her feet was a crushed single-serve coffee pod. 

A beat of silence. Even the machine had gone quiet.

The intern blinked once, twice, and burst into tears.

Michael suddenly found himself unceremoniously shoved into the doorframe as Beth hurried past him into the room, beelining towards the wailing young woman, tutting at her in concern. “Oh you poor dear. It’s all right, come on now. Dry your tears.” Beth produced a what looked like a handkerchief from her person, and handed it to the sniffling intern. “There, there, you’re okay.”

“What happened?” asked Michael, from his position by the door. Behind him, he could hear his team shuffling.

“I don’t know!” wailed the intern - Melissa? Melisandre? Michael struggled to remember her name.

“I just put my K-cup in,” continued the hysterical woman, “And then boom!” the girl - Mary? Monica?- threw her hands up in the air, in approximation of an explosion. “The whole thing just exploded! I swear I didn’t do anything! Oh my God, I’m going to get fired, aren’t I? Please don’t fire me!” The waterworks restarted with a vengeance.

Beth shot Michael a quick glare, and he quickly took a step back, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. “There, there,” Beth repeated as she reclaimed the crumpled handkerchief, and dabbed at the intern’s cheeks. “I’m sure it was all just an accident, Mary.”

Of course, her name’s Mary, Michael thought. How did he not remember that?

Carefully, Michael stepped into the room. For a coffee machine mishap, the damage was surprisingly contained. Most of the coffee grinds seems to have landed on Mary, and there was no split coffee or hot liquids anywhere in sight. Spotting the single-serve coffee pod still on the floor, Michael leaned forward to pick it up, absent-mindedly glancing at the manufacturer information on the pod as he straightened. Hang on.. What-

“Decaf?” Michael blurted out, staring at the pod in his hand in horror. “You were making decaf?”

Gasps of horror echoed across the office.

The intern sniffed. “Yes?”

Michael’s horrified gaze transferred from the pod to Mary. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beth flinching, numb hands dropping the handkerchief as they reached up to cover her mouth in shock. At the entrance to the mini-kitchen, his people exploded into a flurry of exclamations and denials. 

Bewildered, Mary’s eyes started flicking between Beth, Michael, and the people crowded at the doorway. “I…” she swallowed, “I don’t understand. Why-?”

Outrage cries from members of the Stark Industry Legal team cut off her question.

“What do you mean, why?” screeched one of the aides. “It’s decaf! Decaf has no place in this office!”

Another aide wailed. “Decaffeinated coffee is just useless warm brown water! It’s useless! Who drinks decaf?”

Even the usually quiet, portly, slightly balding lawyer who occupied the office next to Michael’s office chimed in. “There is a time and place for decaf coffee,” he stated regally in his deep rumbling voice.”Never, and in the trash.”

Nods of agreement all around.

“Decaf is like sex without the sex!”, cried one of the older interns, who just so happened to be wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Death Before Decaf’. How fortuitous. 

Beside him, someone vigorously waved a white coffee mug in the air. It had the words ‘In Coffee We Trust’ emblazoned in thick, bold font on its otherwise pristine surface.

Sensing a caffeine-driven rampage upcoming in the near future, Michael quickly stepped in before violence could erupt. They were talking about lawyers here. Potentially caffeine-deprived lawyers. It was never a good idea to let the situation worsen. Nobody needs a repeat of the Incident of 1998.

Do not even think to bring up the Incident of 1998. Ever.

Turning to the potentially hysterical mob his legal team was turning into, Michael lifted his hands, palms outward, placating. “Alright people, calm down.” He motioned discretely for Beth to remove the intern from the scene. Beth, bless her soul, was quick to comply. 

Keeping his tone level, and pushing down on his own sense of discomfort - because, decaf, urgh - “Calm down.” Michael repeated, “Look guys, I know we all take our coffee really seriously. But there is no need to be so upset. Everyone has their favourite drinks, no? Take Sarah here,” he gestured at the administrative assistant in question, “Sarah doesn’t take coffee, she prefers tea, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” rebelliously muttered the aide with the unfortunate T-shirt. “But she drinks caffeinated tea.”

Shooting the aide a warning glance, Michael said, “Well, yes, that’s... true- The point is, Mary should be allowed to drink what she wants without being attacked for her choice.”

“But… but-”

“What about contamination! The machine…”

“It’s decaf! That’s just…”

“The decaf broke the new machine!”

“Do I need to send you lot off to sensitivity training at HR again?” Michael threat seemed to make everyone hesitate. Everyone hated the training sessions that HR was so inordinately fond of organising. Many often attend only the minimum necessary for their positions. No one would ever voluntarily offer to attend one if they could help it.

Sensing victory, Michael decided that a final push should be enough, perhaps a carrot to the stick his had just brandished. “I have a Keurig machine in my office that I don’t use it much anymore. I can have that moved here. Mary can use it for when she brews her drinks. That should alleviate any concerns regarding contamination from the coffee purists. Will this be acceptable?”

Murmurs of hesitant agreement. A few shuffling of feet, and the mob was appeased. 

As everyone began returning to their respective cubicle and offices, Michael turned to the coffee machine. Might as well use this opportunity to make sure that it wasn’t broken, or he might actually have a riot on his hand. With a few switches flicked and buttons pressed, the machine hummed to life, much to Michael’s relief.

With perfect timing as usual, Beth led Mary back to the kitchen. Michael turned to the now cleaned-up intern following in her wake. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she murmured quietly. “I am so sorry about the machine.” 

“Oh don’t worry about it,” replied Michael. He gestured to where a fresh pot of drip coffee was currently brewing. “The machine is just fine.”

“Oh,” Mary replied faintly. “That’s- that’s a relief. I’ll make sure to clean up the mess, sir.”

Michael grinned, “Sounds good. Listen, I have a Keurig in my office. We’re going to set it up here so you can use it for your brewing, just so this doesn’t happen again. You wanna go grab it to set up in here?”

“That is a great idea, Michael.” said Beth. She turned to Mary. “I know the way to his office. Follow me.”

A short beep from the coffee machine had Michael focusing on the device again. Seemed like the drip coffee had finished brewing. But Michael did not reach for the pot. Instead he murmured, “I know Stark, and I know his deranged obsession with artificial intelligence. You are sentient, aren’t you?”

The lights on the new coffee machine flashed twice in quick succession and went dim again.

“Well,” said Michael, resigned. “Do try not to terrify any more interns?.”

The machine hummed consideringly in response. After a few seconds, the lights flashed once more. Then, silence.

Having peacefully reached an accord with the newest member of the Legal Department at Stark Industries, Michael considered the matter settled. Nodding to Mary and Beth who were once again returning to the mini-kitchen, this time with his old Keurig, he made his way back to his office for the second time that morning. Time to go back to work. 

With a freshly-brewed mug of coffee in hand, naturally.

*** 

The next day, Michael was interrupted from his morning correspondence by a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted-,” Mary paused, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I just wanted to thank you again, sir. For yesterday, and for the machine.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Michael. “Did the others give you any troubles?”

Mary was shaking her head even before he finished asking his question. “Oh, no, sir.” she replied quickly, “Not at all. They teased a little, but nothing bad. Really.”

“Good.”

The silence dragged on.

“Can I help you with something?” prompted Michael.

“Oh!” replied Mary, “Oh, no, no, no.” She glanced at the mug she had been in a death grip. Skittishly she shifted forward and placed it on the corner of Michael’s desk closest to her. “I just wanted to say thank you, and to give you this.”

Michael reached for the coffee. “Thank you. That is very kind.” He pause as he leaned forward to take a sip, glancing up at Mary. “This isn’t…?”

Mary blinked, and smiled. “It’s regular coffee. I promise.” Her smiled widened when Michael gamely took a mouthful. 

“Thank you.” repeated Michael. Nodding one more time with a quick but shy smile, Mary spun on her heels and rushed from the office.

Amused, Michael returned to his emails, only to be interrupted again, this time by a much less welcomed guest. “Oh no. Not you again,” he groaned when he spotted John at the door. “What did he do this time?”

“There was a bit of an incident at the charity gala last night, that kind of involved the boss, a senator’s aide, a punch bowl, and possibly a hedgehog?”

Michael groaned and dropped his head on his desk. He was going to need so much coffee to deal with this. 

So. Much. Coffee.


	5. The Unwilling Volunteer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas. Oh wow, this year flew by quick!

"Remind me again, why am I here?"

Michael from the Legal Department of Stark Industries was not a happy man. Ear-splitting squeals from outside the break room had him flinching, and he fought the urge to clap his hands over his poor, abused ears. Instead, he tightened his grip on his coffee cup.

Not a happy man at all.

"You're here because you are a good man," Janet from HR reached up to adjust the elf hat on his head. Michael seriously contemplated the wisdom of ripping the monstrosity off his head and throwing it into the fireplace burning merrily a few feet away. It's an electric fireplace, so it's not like the action would be a fire hazard. Nonetheless, it would definitely go a long way in making him feel better about his current situation.

"He is here because he has no choice," corrected Ron from R&D.

On second thought, maybe Michael should be shoving the bespectacled man into the fireplace instead. Sure, a full-grown man might not fit, but that problem could be easily rectified with a broken bone or two. Maybe three. Even four. Michael wasn't feeling particularly picky at the moment.

Janet tsked, her hands moving from adjusting the elf hat on Michael to the rest of the elf costume he was wearing. She straightened the collar, as though the persistent efforts on her part would make the red-and-green monstrosity even more visually palatable. “What are you talking about? Everyone who is here volunteered for this. Besides,” Janet briskly brushed some invisible lint off Michael’s shoulders, and patted him lightly on his chest. “This is for a good cause. Look at all the adorable children!”

Michael did not have the heart to tell Janet that he most certainly did not sign up for this event, and that this was possibly the last place he wanted to be. That, and he had no patience for children. Noisy, grimy, incomprehensible, little creatures, so very impossible to deal with. He found dealing with adults much more tolerable, especially when comprehensible communication is actually possible.

Every year around Christmas, Stark Industries would hold a public event for children, which gave SI employees, as well as members of the public, an opportunity to have some fun with their families, visiting and exploring sectors of Stark Tower that were open to public. Not only does it allow the company to reach out for some good public relations, it had also historically been a major annual fundraising activity that provided some of the more needy orphanages around the country with the resources they would need to provide less fortunate children with some holidays cheer. SI employees were often encouraged to contribute to the event, either as volunteers, or in donations. 

Michael, having no fondness for spending any excess of time with children, had always elected to donate money for the cause, and had been doing so since he first started working as an intern at SI all those years ago. 

This year, unfortunately for Michael, had not worked out as per usual. John, being the irritating troublemaker that he was, and for reasons beyond Michael’s understanding, had put the lawyer’s name down as a volunteer. Furious, Michael had been ready to throw a fit and withdraw, only to have his temper efficiently and swiftly deflated in the face of Janet’s obvious delight at his participation.

 _It really was somewhat disturbing_ , Michael thought resignedly to himself, _the things I would put myself through to avoid upsetting that woman. I’m starting to think she’s a mutant whose superpowers involve getting people to do what she wants._

When a resigned Michael had seeked shelter in Ron’s laboratory shortly after his encounter with the obviously mutant-powered Janet, the young R&D team lead had expressed sympathy for Michael’s dismal plight, and delicately asked, “Is this because you don’t like Christmas?”

“What?” Michael had spluttered. “No! I like Christmas!” It was his favourite holiday, in fact. “I just- I just don’t like children…” Michael muttered, resting his head on his folded arms on Ron’s lab bench. Ron’s response had been to make a face, pat Michael on his head, and push another cup of coffee to the sulking man, before returning to his schematics for the latest Roomba updates.

A sudden flurry of movement around him brought Michael’s attention back to the present. He blinked and looked around. His fellow volunteers in the break room were starting to make their way to the doors, excitedly chattering about their volunteering roles and trading jokes. 

“Right,” Janet clapped her hands, adjusting the tilt of her fluffy red and white Santa cap. “Time to head back to work! Come on, come on!” And off she bounced out the door. 

Michael sighed. 

“Aw, come on buddy, chin up,” said Ron as he slung a companionable arm across Michael’s shoulder and started gliding him out of the room. “It’s not that bad. Only a few hours left and your shift will be over.” 

“Easy for you to say,” muttered Michael glumly. “You are not the one playing an elf and stuck with all the kids and an alien in Santa’s Village. Who decided to let Thor play Santa? On that note, who decided to let the Avengers get involved in this anyway?”

“Beats me,” Ron shrugged. “You have to admit, it certainly adds flavour to this whole event. Who wouldn’t want to draw Christmas cards with Captain America? Or learn to dance with the Black Widow?”

“Couldn’t I have joined you on tech duty? Pressing buttons to manage holograms and sound effects would have been a whole lot easier than having to deal with the little monsters.” 

“Oi,” frowned Ron. “I will have you know, tech duty isn’t easy. It’s more than just pushing buttons.” 

“Sorry, I meant pushing buttons and turning knobs.”

“Okay, I see the sass is in full swing today,” grinned Ron. “Why did you volunteer for Santa’s Village if you hate children to begin with?”

“I did not-” started Michael.

“Oh right, right, sorry.” Ron raised both his hands up, palms forward in gesture of surrender. “You didn’t get to pick your assignment did you? I forgot. Sorry.”

Michael growled. “If I get my hands on John…”

“You will send him to his gruesome, gory death. We know, we know.” Ron patted Michael’s shoulder in encouragement. “Just hang in there, yeah? We’ll wrap this up and head out later. First round of drinks on me.” He started pulling away, “Look, I gotta get to my station. Hang in there and we’ll see you later.” 

Michael waved halfheartedly as Ron turned away. A quick glance around revealed Janet at her station, happily showing the excited children around her how to create their own Christmas ornaments out of simple material. Michael raised a hand in greeting when their eyes met, and was rewarded with a bright smile. 

With a dejected sigh, he began making his own way to Santa’s village. Already he could hear the terrifying sounds of children squealing, babies wailing, and Thor’s loud, booming voice. The Avenger had gaily offered to play the role of the “Midgardian Spirit of Giving”, and he was certainly taking to his new role with gusto. Michael grimaced. This is going to be a long few hours.

***

Michael was not having a good time at all. In the past two hours, he had dealt with four wailing babies whom had probably been traumatised for life after their interactions with a certain blond Asgardian masquerading as Santa Claus, three children fighting over a bit of tinsel, two lost toddlers and their hysterical parents, and a case of projectile vomit. 

Finally finding some time to slip away, Michael hunched his six-foot frame behind a piece of shoulder-height Christmas decoration, dropped his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. Children were the worst. Really, really the worst. Selfish, spoilt little things. If he made it out of this alive, he would kill John in the messiest and most painful way possible. Surely Ron would be willing to help him hide the body. 

In the meantime, he just needed to have a little peace and quiet for a couple of minutes.

“Why are you hiding here, mister? Are you one of Santa’s elf?”

The unexpected voice had Michael jerking upright in surprise. A glance downwards revealed the source of the question. A little girl stood beside him, her large sky-blue eyes framed by long lashes, staring at him in expectation. 

When Michael failed to respond, the little brunette huffed in what Michael felt was exaggerated exasperation. She hefted the stuff teddy bear in her arms, tilted her head, and repeated her question. 

“Are you one of Santa's elf? Do you work for him?” she asked, tugging on his costume.

Resigned, Michael plastered a smile on his face and crouched down to speak to the child. “Yes, I am,” he replied. “But I am on my break right now. Do you want to talk to Santa? I can take you to him?”

To his surprise, the little girl shook her head. Now that he had some time to observe her a little more closely, Michael would estimate her to be around four, maybe five years old. “Are you afraid of Santa? You don’t have to be, you know. He is a nice man. Granted, a bit loud, and unreserved. But he is a nice.”

The little girl shook her head again, more vigorously this time, sending her little pigtails flying. “I’m not afraid,” she replied. “I’d already spoke to him.” She reached out unreservedly and tugged at Michael’s costume. “I wanted to talk to you. You looked sad. Why do you look sad? You shouldn’t be sad. Mama says Christmas is a happy time. For everybody.”

“I’m not sad,” said Michael. “Just a little tired.”

The little girl nodded sagely. “There are a lot of children. And Santa is being very noisy.” She leaned forward and whispered. “I think he is scaring the little kids.”

Reluctantly amused, Michael tried desperately not to laugh out loud. Out of the mouth of babes indeed. “He doesn’t scare you?” Michael asked.

“No! I’m not scared,” declared the little one proudly. “I am a big girl and I don’t get scared. Mama says I am big enough to help take care of my baby brother. He is only little and very boring. All he does is lie on his back. He makes a lot of funny noises, but he cannot talk yet. Do you think Santa will know what to get him for Christmas if he cannot talk? Should I make a Christmas wish for my brother as well? “

Michael blinked at the sudden barrage of information. The child finally paused and stared at him expectantly. 

“Erm…” started Michael hesitatingly, “Well… why not? Do you- What do you think your little brother would want? For Christmas.”

Anticipating another bombardment of words, Michael was pleasantly surprised to see the little girl considering his question with the gravitas of a deep thinker, her rosy little lips pursed and gaze turned inwards.

“Maybe a toy?” she replied slowly. “Or milk… Mama says he drinks a lot of milk.” She suddenly straightened up, eyes bright with excitement. “Or maybe I should wish for him to grow up faster? Then he can play with me more. Mama says he is not allowed to come out to play yet. That’s why she is home with the baby and only Papa could come with me today. Do you think if I wish for him to grow up faster he would be able to come here and play next Christmas too?”

Michael smiled despite himself. “I’m sure he looks forward to growing up quickly so he can spend more time with you. Why don’t you go tell Santa that?”

“I will! Thank you Mr. Elf!” said the little girl cheerfully. She waved as she started making her way to a man who Michael only just realised, had been standing nearby throughout the entire conversation. Before Michael could push himself back to his feet, the child stopped, and rushed back to his side. “I nearly forgot,” she said. “Here you go Mr. Elf! Something to help you not feel tired anymore.”

In her little upraised palm was hard candy wrapped in Christmas cheer. 

Michael smiled and accepted the offering. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sure this will help me feel better soon.”

The little one grinned and turned back to the waiting man once more. “Papa, papa!” she cried. “We need to see Santa again! I need to make a wish for George!” The man smiled as he leaned over to pick up his little girl. Nodding to Michael, he turned back to Santa’s Village, quietly speaking to his daughter as he went.

“You handled that well.”

Michael’s head snapped up to see Janet leaning against the wall behind the decoration. Her smile was soft. He flushed and stood up quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you making your way over, and thought you might need a break, or maybe someone to rant to. But it looks like there was no need. The little girl had everything well in hand.”

Michael fidgeted, “I thought there was no harm in letting her talk...Not that it was much of a conversation, to be honest. She pretty much did all the talking…”

Janet’s smile widened and she stepped forward, close enough for Michael to register faint traces of her perfume. “I think you did a great job.”

Michael couldn’t help but smile lopsidedly back at her. For a while, they stood there smiling at each other, isolated from the world. It was peaceful. Quiet.

Then, a massive roar, followed by squeals and screams suddenly arose from Santa’s village, and the moment was swiftly and effectively broken. 

Michael hung his head and sighed.

Janet giggled and peered over the decoration in the direction of Santa’s Village. “Looks like you are needed back at Santa’s village.” 

Michael groaned and pressed his hands against his down-turned face. 

Thoroughly amused and grinning, Janet tapped Michael’s forearm in commiseration. “Come on,” she cajoled. “I’ll help too.” She began tugging on Michael’s arm to make him move. 

Michael separated his fingers slightly, peeking at Janet between the spaces pleadingly. “Do I have to?” he asked plaintively.

“Yes,” came the swift, heartless reply. “Come on, let’s go. Our shift ends in another fifteen minutes. We can join Ron and the others for drinks after. No more children. I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

“Fine.” Michael exhaled sharply. Setting his shoulders back, he straightened his spine, and courageously made his way back into the breach, Janet loyally following at his side. 

_Hopefully_ , thought Michael to himself. _None of the parents of traumatized children would be filing lawsuits from today’s events. I’d hate to have to work over Christmas!_


End file.
